The Water's Warm
by Cherry Fay
Summary: Sherlolly one shot smut. Sherlock and Molly mature content, no copyright infringement intended. "Was that an invitation Hooper?" Sherlock said cocking an eyebrow.


The bathroom mirror was steamed up and the air was dense and humid. Molly lay in the water still as a statue.

She looked at the glassy surface and wondered what it would feel like to drown. She knew the physicalities from the countless corpses she had examined; the swelling skin, increased blood volume, pressure on sinuses, hemorrhage as a result.

But the thought of being submerged and unseen, the water like a pillow over the face, covering the entire body, crushing the lungs caused her to take an involuntary deep breath, her chest breaking the surface of the water and creating tiny ripples.

Molly sank back into her daze, wanting the whole world just to stop and she could just lie there. The warmth and quiet was womb-like, protective.

Until the tranquility was broken by one sharp knock.

Molly stayed quiet, hoping he would go away.

"Molly what's going on?" his voice called out. The door was not locked. Molly had no locks anywhere on her doors apart from on her front door. A girl had locked her in a basement closet overnight at a sleepover once as a joke. She was eight.

Sherlock swung the door open and walked through, looking down at her form. The water was not see through as the surface was covered in large, thick bubbles.

"Come in Sherlock," she said drily, staring straight ahead again. The phrase 'no boundaries' was Sherlock in a nutshell.

"You've been in here for two hours," he huffed.

She didn't say anything.

"I need the toilet," he said as if expecting her to move.

She didn't twitch a muscle.

"Well, that's just selfish," he said after a pause.

She snapped, whipping her head round to glare at him through narrow eyes.

"Selfish! Selfish!?" she hissed.

"I helped you _fake your death! _I share my house with you! So I'm sorry if you have to wait just five min-" she stopped short as she realised that he wanted that reaction. He flopped down on the toilet seat in triumph at her outburst.

Sherlock saw her retreat back into herself and sighed, falling silent and just watching her instead. For the first time ever Molly was not flustered under his gaze even though she was naked under the bubbles. Instead she was calm and ran thought her thoughts, knowing he was with her every step of the way.

She thought about the mess that Sherlock had put her in and how she had to now babysit him. She thought about how close she had come to falling for a man that turned out to be a murderer. She thought about the increasing number of bills. She thought about her mother who had died exactly a year ago. She thought until she didnt want to think anymore.

Instead she cupped a handful of water and looked directly at him.

"The water's warm," she said coyly before letting it trickle through her fingers, not quite sure what she wanted to achieve with that train of thought.

Sherlock leaned forward slowly and dipped his fingers into the bubbles.

"So it is," he said in a low voice but kept his fingers submerged dangerously close to her knee.

Molly felt a surge of adrenaline at his closeness. Goosebumps rose on the exposed skin of her shoulders. He spoke again,

"Was that an invitation Hooper?" he said cocking an eyebrow.

She shrugged casually.  
"There's space for two," and indeed there was, Molly had seen the huge enamel bath in the window of an antique shop and fell in love at first sight. It was an impulse buy but one of her best purchases, allowing her these luxurious, spacious soaks.

The extremely long pause that followed would normally have made Molly squirm but this time she waited with bated breath for his reply.

He stood up and she thought he was going to walk out, but his fingers went up to his shirt collar to pop the buttons.

She watched him in amazement, calling his bluff. But when the white shirt slipped off his torso to reveal the hard planes and wiry muscle she drank it in greedily. When he reached for his zipper she closed her eyes against every fibre in her now oversensitive body screaming at her to open them.

She felt the water level rise as he climbed in. She drew up her knees to give him room and opened her eyes at his indecent groan of appreciation as he reclined opposite her. They now mirrored each other and their knees touched. They both knew at that moment they had just crossed a line but Molly didn't give a damn. Neither did Sherlock as he leant his head back exposing the pale column of his neck and released a sigh of relaxation.

Picking up a loose tendril of hair, wet at the ends Molly swirled it around her finger. It was not meant to be coquettish, more of a nervous habit.

They sat in the water, the silence was tense, but also comforting as they drifted into their separate thoughts. After a few minutes the humidity of the room, the water's temperature and Sherlock's body heat combined to make Molly uncomfortable. She wriggled and a drop of water trickled from the nape of her neck down the curve of her breast.

Sherlock watched the drop's movement under hooded eyes. He broke the silence.

"Awfully hot in here, isn't it?" he said hoarsely. Molly peeked at him from under her eyelashes. He leaned forward,

"You sure you haven't pee'd?"

Molly couldn't help but snort out a laugh. Wrinkling her nose in distaste she leaned forward too so their faces were now just inches apart.

"Well if I had, I wouldn't have been sitting in it for two hours," she replied tilting her head.

"Two hours and eighteen minutes," he replied so she felt his breath tickle her face.

"And by the way, who knocks just once?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. Only Sherlock could have made a shrug sexy thought Molly.

"More than one knock is unnecessary. You heard me. So it's sufficient," he said a if it was a stupid question. She watched his lips, wondering what they felt like. Now or never.

Looking back, Molly would have said that she was caught up in the moment as she pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. She withdrew immediately and winced waiting for his explosive reaction, but it never came. Instead she felt a soft pressure on her own lips and she startled in surprise.

Her expression of surprise caused him to exhale a laugh.  
"What?" he asked quizzically.

"What do you mean what?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?"

"I mean what was that?"

He rolled his eyes,  
"I believe it was a kiss,"

She touched her lips with her wet fingers. He looked at her confused,

"Is this not what you want?" he asked and pulled away.

"No!" she hastily protested, "I mean yes! I do want this," she said scuttling forward so she was almost on his lap. She just wondered what he was getting out of it.

He picked a loose tendril of hair that was sticking to her forehead and pushed it back.

"Don't act coy Miss Hooper, you know full well what you were up to," he said much to her confusion.

"A lady, naked and wet, inviting me to bathe with her, I may be erratic and strange in behaviour, but I'm still a man," he said in his rich baritone making her shiver in arousal.

"I- I didn't think of it like that!" she said scandalised, it sounded dirty the way he said it though propriety had gone out of the window the moment she had invited him in.

She wanted more.

His hands clutched the edge of the bath, the knuckles white. He brought his left hand underneath the water and paused. Even though she was surrounded by water Molly knew she was wet. She tensed, unsure where exactly the hand was, until he pressed it firmly onto her sensitive nub. She crumpled in pleasure and fell forward to kiss him again clumsily, but on the neck so that she felt the vibrations of his groan. His hands felt cold as they splayed onto her flushed back pulling her in closer. She felt him harden into her inner thigh.

Sherlock's right hand palmed her soapy breast and rolled the nipple under the water surface. Molly tilted her head back in pleasure and he ran the flat of his tongue up from the gap between her breasts to her neck, and the back of her ear.

It was a sensual move and Molly whimpered, he chuckled into her damp hair.

"You smell of pomegranate," he murmured randomly.

"The- the... shampoo," she managed to force out.

"The scent of pomegranate is subtle yet distinct," he reeled off on a tangent as if reciting something, oblivious to the needy want currently coiled in Molly's lower body.

He looked at the redness of her swollen lips and remarked,  
"Also, the colour... is... extremely... feminine..." he punctured the last words with a kiss starting on her chin and finishing full on her lips.

Molly was done with his teasing and she tightened her legs around his hips letting him know what she wanted. Both their breaths were loud and seemed to fill the small room.

Sherlock grasped her thighs and rubbed his thumb over her clit again making her jump with electricity. He seemed to be done with talking as well as he adjusted beneath her so that they were aligned.

She sank onto him easily and the solid weight now resting inside her made her gasp. She sat on him and focused solely on that feeling. But the man underneath her was not so composed and his fingers dug into her thigh. She felt his cock twitch which prompted her to move.

The water sloshed over the rim of the tub in time with her thrusts and the sound of his heavy breathing along with the slapping sound convinced her she wouldn't last.

They thought of nothing else, all the stress and sexual tension that had built up like static electricity between them over the past few months was now being discharged in the primal act. They moved with gusto, relishing the heat, the passion and the pure desire.

Sherlock looked far gone, his curls now frizzy and his brow shining with perspiration as drove himself up into her, his teeth bared as if in pain.

Molly looked at his flushed face and felt his pink tongue greedily darting in and out of her mouth. That was the tipping point and she came a minute later. Sherlock felt it and writhed underneath her.

He pulled her off him with all the strength he could muster and came into the bath water, flopping back with a hiss.

They sat back at opposite ends of the bath and gained back their breath. Molly's knees were still splayed obscenely, red and rubbed sore. Looking at Sherlock in her post-prgasmic haze he looked well and truly fucked.

Sherlock returned a look of pure sex that caused Molly to swallow. He looked down at his release floating on the surface of the water.

It was Molly's turn to raise an eyebrow at the mess.  
"I'll start the shower."

Thoughts always welcome.  
Thanks for reading. xx


End file.
